


Halo Around Your Neck

by Maone



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 03:23:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18421794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maone/pseuds/Maone
Summary: "It's over now, you don't have to be here anymore.""That's good" Aziraphale whispered in relief. "They were starting to get heavy." Crowley felt the angel pressing tighter against him. "I'm so tired, Crowley." He sobbed brokenly. "So tired."





	Halo Around Your Neck

World War II affected them both and Crowley expected the angel to take it hard with all the innocent lives perishing quicker than being born. At the time he just followed the Soviet army without participating, he found out that the less he actually involved himself in the mess, the easier it was to hand in the deeds. Nobody had to know whether his involvement included all the gruesome details or just the end of the suffering.

That brought to question to what was Aziraphale doing? What was there to do for an angel when all the faith has been long lost, the last remaining set to burn in the house of God, churches that once were open arms to refugees, now death traps as the nazis set them on fire and listened to screams of anguish until even they became nothing more than dust and bone. _God has abandoned us_. Crowley heard those words many times and when his gaze rose the sky, he wondered about the truth behind them.

But where were all the angels?

Crowley couldn't remember the last time he felt any divine presence and while it could have been blocked out by the overwhelming presence of demons, angels had such intense aura that Crowley felt like he'd recognize it anywhere.

The closest thing he'd seen to a celestial being were all the angels of Death roaming the ruins of European cities, Crowley wasn't familiar with them until 14th century when they showed up in France.

_"They've been borrowed from various garrisons to assist Death, it's at least what Gabriel said" Aziraphale told him._

_"Really? One would think they'd bring along someone from Hell to help out, I doubt they're bringing them all Up" Crowley said._

_"They don't bring them to Heaven" Aziraphale replied sadly._

_"Purgatory?" Crowley threw him a questioning glance, Aziraphale nodded._

_"Purgatory."_

_"Neither angels or demons should be able to enter Purgatory, there's a catch to this isn't there" Crowley sighed._

_"I'd rather not wonder what it is..." Aziraphale muttered._

It was a strange thought, Heaven essentialy giving Hell free hand at doing whatever it wanted under the guise of it being necessary evil. But that still didn't explain why he hasn't seen Aziraphale.

Not for long.

**1945**

The war was nearing the end, Hitler was dead and cities were being liberated. Crowley followed the Soviet army to Czechoslovakia. When they stopped to free prisoners from the concentration camp of Terezin is when Crowley noticed the presence of an angel. While the Red Army along with Czech doctors gathered the few of remaining prisoners that escaped final execution, Crowley wandered away, following familiar aura.

His momentary excitement at finally locating his lost friend was quickly extinguished when along with the angelic aura came another less divine smell.

When he got to a clearing, he could see gallows resting against one of the tall red walls surrounding the camp and a lone figure standing by it. Didn't look like Aziraphale, but Crowley learned to recognize his aura, he knew his angel.

"Aziraphale!" He called out.

The dirty blond that he knew to be so fond of his victorian suits was practically unrecognizable, not even his pristine wings sprawled across his back made up for the dirty rags he was wearing, but concentration camp was hardly a place for staying clean and not standing out.

Aziraphale didn't turn around when Crowley approached him, instead he crouched near a bundle of clothes on the ground, upon closer examination Crowley realized it was one of the prisoners, his body too malnourished to even bleed properly as he lay dying, but his hollow eyes fixed on the angel above him, silent and pleading.

"* _Odpočívejte, nikdo už vám neublíží_ ," Crowley heard the angel's hoarse voice.

"* _Anděl, tak přece-_ " the man trailed off.

Crowley watched the angel's unusually thin hand reach out to the dead man's eyes to close them. When he went to stand up, he stumbled and Crowley caught him, feeling the angel tense up against him and Crowley carefully wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's waist while the angel just stood there, pain filled eyes searching the demon's in such utter confusion that for a moment Crowley worried that he forgot about him.

"Crowley?" Such a child-like hopefulness sounded so alien with Aziraphale's voice.

 _Of course it's me._ Ignoring the tightness in his chest, Crowley nodded.

"Yeah."

The angel smiled at him, but it only made Crowley feel worse. Aziraphale seemed absolutely drained, beyond what human exhaustion goes. They stood there awkwardly and regardless of their closeness, Crowley shuddered, Aziraphale felt cold, colder than he's ever been, nothing about him felt the way it should, his aura felt strange and-

And then Crowley remembered the haunted looks of those creatures roaming the ruins of various cities.

"I suppose there's no point in asking you why are you here, is there?" Crowley muttered.

Aziraphale shook his head.

"It's over now, you don't have to be here anymore." Crowley gritted his teeth. _You shouldn't have been here in the first place._

"That's good" Aziraphale whispered in relief. "They were starting to get heavy." Crowley nearly toppled over when Aziraphale completely gave up on remaining upwards and they both sank to their knees. "I'm so tired, Crowley." He sobbed brokenly. " _So tired_."

Crowley swallowed tightly, what could he say? What could he possibly say that would make anything better, while bodies of innocent men and women lay scattered all around them? "Go to sleep, I'll look after you."

"You know that we don't need sleep" Aziraphale made an attempt to laugh but it came out sounding more like a broken sob.

Crowley rested his hand over Aziraphale's eyes and the angel went limp in his arms.

"I don't think anyone needs it more than you do, angel."

* * *

 

In later years, Aziraphale would insist that he never slept and never needed to and Crowley isn't sure if his denial about what happened at the camp is just that strong or he simply didn't remember. Either way, he never corrects him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> *Rest, nobody will hurt you anymore  
> *Angel, after all...
> 
> drabble inspired by A Perfect Circle - The Noose  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SdpJBpBHP4I


End file.
